


Inferno

by orphan_account



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Battlefield, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-26 13:59:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/651222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: "After a battle, Merlin has disappeared. Arthur searches for him on the battlefield and eventually finds him under enemy bodies, barely alive. Basically something similar to that scene in Lord of the Rings where Pippin searches for Merry on the Pelennor Fields."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inferno

He staggered, skin a furious red from exposure. Anger boiled up, because this was unbearable, this combination of not knowing, still searching, and the worst heat he’d ever experienced. Everyone he knew-- every familiar face that had given him a pained look and every voice that had muttered well-meaning whispers behind his back-- they were all tending to each other in the cool indoors. He was out here, in the middle of it all, baking and burning and fuming.

He let the anger continue to build because it was the best emotion with which to meet this kind of heat. He let the anger continue to build because of the sheer unfairness of the fact that he couldn’t even work up any sadness or pity or breathless fear. Maybe if it was raining he could react the right way. He should be crying right now. He wiped the sweat from the side of his face.

He shouted the name and it came out croaking and self-conscious. He was hit by a bitter daydream of someone replying, of him running to them in relief, of them being not only the wrong one, but the worst possible one. Not only a man he wasn’t looking for, but a man wearing the wrong color entirely. The fantasy went further: the enemy was young, and he was desperate, and his eyes, already bulging from adrenalin, widened further when he realized his mistake, when he realized what exact purpose his call for help was about to serve. _And what would you do then, champion?_

He sneered unconsciously. The fantasy did its trick. He stopped short, and felt the kind of quick hurt he had thought might not be possible in this kind of heat. The kind of quick hurt that always made him want to physically turn his head away, as if he could change the subject of his thoughts by diverting his eyes. _You wouldn’t be wasting your time thinking if you had found him by now. If you had fixed it. He’s not being taken care of because you’re distracted. You’re guilty? You’re tired? You’re hot? He’s dead._

But even as he allowed his mind to fulfill every horrified imagining possible, to ruthlessly spur him on as it was meant to do, the youngest part of him-- if he was having everything out, the best part of him-- pleaded silently. And even as he jerked back to movement, beginning to feel the panic surge up again, he thought, _No he’s not. Please._

The faces. He focused on the faces, and when he couldn’t see one, when it was only an ankle or an elbow or the back of a head, he adjusted the body until he could see properly, his touch gentle and caressing only until he confirmed that it still wasn’t the right one. Parts of him debated even as he staggered on. _It’s only because they’re already dead. If I could do anything for them--_

_You would? Would you really? They’re not the right one. Every second you spend on the wrong ones, he gets worse. And--_

And mid-thought, he saw through the heat haze an improbable triangle of blue.

He clanked to the color and dug it up, shoving other bodies away to get to the right one. The best one. Always the best, even if this was the time when Merlin was dead. Even if this was the time when Arthur had failed. Even if it was all about to hit him, and he was about to realize that he had finally allowed the worst thing possible to happen. He imagined the corpse, imagined the eyes devoid of every kind of light that they had ever reflected. He dug.

He paused only when a barely-conscious, teasing lilt interjected.

“It’s been hot enough waiting for you all day, don’t go burning me with that damn armor."

It washed over him like the sweetest water in the world. 

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is much appreciated! 
> 
> This was originally posted as a fill for a Kink Meme prompt here: http://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com/32238.html?thread=33349102. Thanks so much to the OP for the wonderful prompt!


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